


Snippets between stars

by BlushingMaidenMood



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27455713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushingMaidenMood/pseuds/BlushingMaidenMood
Summary: The Place where I will post all the snippets and short stories and HC that my brain can think of.Some may be later used or based in and on fics I want to write.Its an OUtlet for my brain.If you want scenarios, you can just ask about it^^NSFW also a thing.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

Why Master Plo Koon is never, ever, leaving his Padawan behind inside of a Casino:

It had been a few long days since he and his Padawan were given the mission to help find a suspect stealing from the relief goods from a just plague cured planet. The journey took them two days inside a small shuttle. So small in fact that young Korbinian had become frightened of the loss of space around him, seemed that he, like nearly everybody of his species, had become afraid of small spaces, how unfortunate.

So Master Plo had been in constant contact with the frightened boy, stroking his hair and feathers, rubbing circles on his hunched over back and even let the child sleep in his lap and on top of him, all the while his Bonds with him were thrumming with warmth and reassurement.  
Yes, Bonds. Two of them. The Master-Padawan Bond and the Flock-Bond the young one had created with him.

After that horrible flight in the tin can, they had worked fast, Master Plo showing his Padawan how to find tracks in the cyberspace and in the real world, while effectively whittling down track after track. Master Plo took only about a standard day to know WHO, WHAT and HOW, the only thing missing the WHERE.  
But, he let his Padawan help, find things, people, tracks and clues on his own and praised him for that, he would show him more efficient ways after their mission was successfully over.

The most promising clue led Master and Padawan to a great market hall, easily bigger than a small city in itself. Over 342 stories high and even more than 57 deep into the planet, it was filled with stores, food producer, market stalls, hotels and casinos.

Master Plo had to grab his young One more than once to get him to follow him and not to track down something shiny for his little nest, or something fluffy for comfort.  
Really now, sometimes a Federling Padawan was just as much trouble as a sack full of lothcats and only one ball of yarn!  
(He wouldn't trade him for all the stars in the Galaxy)

But time was of the essence now, their suspect had somehow caught up in information, knew now that someone was hunting him down. And Master Plo couldn't instruct his small Padawan (the boy was only 8 at the time!) to leave all the shinys alone, leave his instincts behind to follow instructions. So he had to implement another way. He would be faster alone, the things he wanted to show and teach his Padawan were mostly about the cyberspace tracking and everything else would have to come later.

And in all honesty, he didn't want to take his small, naive, INNOCENT Padawan into the Red-Light-District inside the Market-hall...

He stopped his fast pace right in front of one of the more prude decorated buildings, which even had a small food stall with freshly made goods in it, manned by a small and bend with age human woman. Turning to his Padawan Master Plo bend down, put his hands on the shoulders of the boy and whispered softly to him.

"Padawan, i want you to stay here. The next steps of this mission will be hurried and i will not be able to guard you from everything. You are still too young for me, to just put into dangerous situations. So i want you to go to the food stall, buy yourself something to eat, safe some for me and wait for me. Here are a few Credits. Can you do that?"

His small Padawan looked hurt for a few moments and Master Plo flooded his Bonds with warmth, acceptance and the feeling of new chances. It took more time than Master Plo liked, but his boy send back reluctant agreement even as his head sank down in submission, baring his neck to his Master. The small one took the Credstick from his Master, nodded again and then made his way to the old lady behind the counter.

Master Plo took a deep breath and turned back to his original destination, his pace hurried and his senses to the Force wide open. He would had to dim his Bonds, but that was a small price to pay.  
The hunt was on. 

It took him a few hours. Hours that he had to traipse through masses of sweating and writhing bodies, uncomfortable rubbing against him and, even more often, he had to evade touches to his intimate area.  
But he had finally caught the suspect and handed him over to the authorities. The way back seemed so much longer and so much harder for his tired body. He wanted to collect his Padawan, buy food for himself and the small one for the journey back and then leave as fast as possible.

Finally he found the place again, the food stall with the elderly lady and his Padawan, both sitting in a booth and giggling about like school children. The sight alone helped Master Plo relax somewhat and he opened the bonds up again.

He was instantly flooded with relief, warmth, giddiness and something that reminded him of guilt and – doom?  
Just a few seconds later he had his arms full with his small one, rubbing all over him and keening softly in delight.  
But something... 

Sheepishly his Padawan blinked up at him.

„Master, i had so much fun! Lady Edewn gave me some food and then we played games together! And then we went into the second floor and there were so much more games! And she showed me how to do some of them, and I even got Credits for playing! And Datapads! And even a Droid! But Lady Edewn asked me to gift her the Droid and the Force told me it was the right thing to do and so I gave her the Droid and she promised me that she would give me some of her recipes for it!“

Master Plo Koons heart got heavier and heavier as he listened to the rambled report of his Padawan. His little, innocent Padawan, who had found himself in a Casino, it seemed.  
He took the small basket of Datapads from the lowly cackling old Lady and chanced a look at the first one.

„Master? MASTER!“ Plo could hear the concern in the soft voice of his Padawan, but also something of a tinkling laugh of the force as black spots danced before his eyes.  
Then he knew no more.


	2. Brothers Lament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lone Brother in a Listening Outpost.

Listening Outpost 9 sat silently on top of a cliff, round roof reflecting the shining stars above except for the small set of three antennas proudly situated right on top in the middle of the roof. Two of them were rotating around the biggest of the three, catching noises and data from all the surrounding land.  
Not that the surrounding land was much to look at or listen to.  
Listening Outpost 9 was one of the last ones still standing, still being operated by a Listener.   
Just one.

Only a few blinking lights could be seen on the sleek black outer walls, gaslight peeking through small gaps in between ill fitting and repaired plates, all painstakingly rubbed down with some kind of black mud and brushed so well that it looked pristine at night.  
There is only one door for Listening Outpost 9, which faces the only way to the house and onto the dark land the cliff springs from. Its an island, stone and moss galore but never trees or the semblance of other live than the Listener.  
At the bottom of the cliff is a roaring sea, waves clashing like wild hordes of horses against the stones, clawing at it and taking away parts, gouging the ground and stone with long practiced ease.  
Its so loud, that it can be clearly heard on top of the cliff, can easily be heard and recorded by the moving antennas sitting as innocent witnesses on top.  
When they were first deployed, there had been 4 persons to man the tower, the house, the Outpost.  
This was years ago though.  
Now there was only one left. One Listener who had long forgotten his name and on somedays even his purpose.  
It was hard not to follow the other three, to just surrender to what he could hear every night when the two moons of the planet were not to be seen. Not to declare himself free and willing to leave the Outpost to go looking for what he could record.  
To follow the haunting melody sang by whatever beast sat at the bottom of the cliff, calling for him like it had called for his Brothers.   
And why could he not follow it?   
The Outpost was long since forgotten. The whole planet seemed to have been forgotten by everyone else but himself. 

The Listener sighed, a gloved hand brushing over the side of his helm, his trusty bucket, which was scratched and dented heavily. But he had no longer the materials to repair it. The screen was broken, one of the radio antennas ripped right off. There were holes in it, leaving him helpless to escape the notes of sorrow and longing drifting up with the winds, playing with his heartstrings.  
He tried to escape many times from the Island, but there was no boat nor ship to take him away. And this was his post. This was where the buckets of his brothers rested peacefully.  
And what would wait for him outside of this world?

War.  
So he stayed his feet and hands, did not call out to his brothers among the stars to remember him, to get him home and safe and to be sheltered in between humans that looked like him.  
He took all of this, his emotions and feelings and bottled them right up inside himself.

Until today.   
The two moons could not be seen everywhere and he knew he had only a little time. With a heart that felt heavy and close to breaking, the man made his way to the small staircase leading upwards to the repair hatch in the roof. It creaked miserably as he pushed it open with his hands, a shoulder needed to prop it open fully.   
The salty winds greeted him first, pushing misty drafts of clouds around him in a cold and wet but welcoming hug.  
The quiet beeping of the antennas was drowned out by the roaring of the waves he could hear below him, but not see.

He fell more than sat on his behind, head tilted backwards to stare at the vastness of black all above him. Stars shining in it like flickering lightbulbs which had to be changed sooner than later.  
His helm, his trusty bucket, was clipped to his belt, it would not help him any longer. He slipped the black gloves from his hands, throwing them aside without a care. 

And there it was, starting up right as the sound of waves finally dimmed down to the gentle heartbeat of a living sea. Foam Horses tamed for a few precious hours of time. A wild beast settling down to listen to one of his own’s call for … for something the Listener didn’t even know.  
There were no words to the melody, no rhythm or rhyme. It was feeling, raw and unfiltered and reaching up towards the sky and him and everyone who would dare to listen.  
But he was the last one.

The Listener breathed out, eyes falling shut, heart stuttering in his chest.  
The voice, the haunting vocals, wrapped around his self like a scarf made of finest silk, bound him just as strong and unforgiving to its source.   
He could hear his brothers in that voice, calling for him, telling him to join them. Join them down at the bottom of the cliff, where they had all gone after a while, surrendering to the voice, to the emptiness that had spread in all of their chests.

They left him alone. One after the other.  
No one cared. About the Outpost, about the non existent information and not about one single Brother left on his own on this wasteland of a planet. 

A single tear made its way from his closed eyes, slowly making its way down his chilled flesh to finally drop on the roof.

He would not give in.   
Not today.  
But how long until the Sirenscall of freedom and companionship would lure him in as well.  
He does not want to be alone anymore.


	3. Fives shenanigans 1

„You know, I don’t normally mind this. Further training I mean.”   
Fives’ head had landed on the wooden table a long time ago, approximately 5 minutes after the lecture started, a soft monotone voice wafting through the room like the most tantalizing sleep agent he had ever heard.  
Echo was on the edge of his chair, pinching his own thigh every few minutes to not fall asleep, because even if he normally loved regulations and the rule book, this session was just torture.  
He was also the one mumbling to his unfortunate Brothers.

“I love regs…” he whines softly, free hand reaching over to inconspicuously slap away the hand Hardcase had his own head rest on, eyelids heavy and closing every few seconds. It seemed to be a fight the Trooper would not be able to win anytime soon.

“I like reading the books.” Jesse had given up only a few minutes after Fives, leaning with his full weight on Kix, who was silently suffering through it all, typing on a medical Datapad or trying to break the scrambler their Captain had set outside the door, who would know?  
“But this is torture.” Echo’s head felt so heavy, the voice of the grey blob way down the rows of seats and tables only coaxing him further into the state of a resting soldier. Not quite awake but not quite asleep either.   
He didn’t even know what the whole lecture was about!  
Only that it was held by Master Rancisis and should be about Communication, or.. something else starting with a C, of that he was quite sure. Could be anything at this point in time though.  
But he knew that he couldn’t succumb or else his Tortu- his Captain would just send them again!  
“This is all Fives’ fault!” he hissed to the others, a chorus of soft whines and grunts answering him in the same tone of voice. And one soft snore.   
“If he hadn’t double-dog-dared all of us, none of this would have happened!”  
Every Brothers pair of eyes squinted over at the snoring form of the One they had followed into the dare. The growling sound was enough to make their chairs and desks vibrate from their shared fury.  
And now that Brother dared to be asleep while they all had to suffer???  
With a loud slapping sound, multiplied by many hands and fists finding a soft body clad out in only his blacks the Brothers released their anger.

Fives yelped loudly, springing up and over the desk, crashing to the floor in an undignified heap while screeching.  
“REALLY CAPTAIN! IT WAS ECHO! ECHO PUT HIS RED SHIRT INTO YOUR WHITE UNDERWEAR LAUNDRY!”


	4. A late works night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fives only wanted to bring back, or better, smuggle in the work he had been suppossed to be doing earlier.  
> What he finds in his Captains Office is not what he expected.

It was already late, most of his Brothers ready to crash and sleep through one of the nights they could sleep at the barracks on Triple Zero. Pillows and blankets piled in between nailed down bedframes and vode relaxing in a rare cuddlepile.   
He would have loved to join it as well but the paperwork his Captain had told him to do was already late and he hoped Rex office would be empty so he could sneak the karked Datapad on the workdesk and leave it there like it had always been there!  
What a wonderful plan! Fives was proud of it and no one bar Echo and Jesse would ever know!  
Glorious!  
Snickering to himself, because Brothers do not giggle, Fives turns the last corner in the darkened corridors, his gaze easily falling onto the door he would…. Have….  
The barely open door, lockpad shining a soft green to show the door was unlocked.   
Fives stills, the falls of his feet silent and slow.   
Intruder?   
This was way past the time the Captain normally sat in his office, something must be wrong!

Stealing himself and cussing in his head because he had no weapon on him, only the Datapad, Fives crept forwards without making a sound, like a ghost, unseen and unheard.  
He could see a sliver of light coming from the barely open door and the dim sound of voices, more than one for sure, reached his ears, but he could not understand what was said.  
Maybe he could catch the Intruder in the act?  
His back pressed against the wall, the cold from the steel sinking through his thin blacks, step for silent step carrying him closer to the door, his ears perked to be able to catch something that was -  
Wait. What?   
“- touch me.”  
What? He knew that voice. It was Rex! But, what was he doing here at this time of night?  
Fives finally reached the door, able to peek through.  
And froze.  
He could see into the room and had a frontal view of the workdesk. On said desk he could make out the form of his blonde Captain, head thrown back and mouth wide open, blacks peeled halfway off. One of his legs was dangling right over the edge of the desk, the other in the grip of another brother, no not only a Brother but -   
“Cody, please!”  
“Relax, Rex, im going to make you feel better, I promise.”   
Commander Cody was right in between his Captains legs, holding one up and a bit to the side, pressing even closer now, one hand splayed over Rex’s stomach to hold him down.

“Cody! Cody, it hurts, please.” His Captain whimpered, a low groan following, and Fives could see his brother’s legs quiver, hands gripping the edge of the table tight. A red blush was dusting over Rex face, his eyes closed.  
“Shh. Im going to take really good care of you, I promise. But you have to relax, I can’t push if you are as tense as now, it would only hurt you more.”  
Fives could feel the air halt in his lungs, could feel the burning spreading from over his nose to both of his ears.   
What.. What was he witnessing?  
A low moan caught his attention again, his gaze falling back onto the two inhabitants in the office. Cody was now pinning his Captain down with his arm across Rex’s lower stomach, low whispers reaching Fives ears, soothing and soft, even as he seemed to push forward, his hips with the crumbled looking blacks pressing right into the apex of his Captains thighs, a gentle hand slowly travelling up the stretched out leg, keeping it straight so as not to get in the way.  
“Cody- Little Gods! – Cody yes! So good!”   
The way his own Captain was mewling in delight was too much for Fives to handle, he placed a shaking hand over his mouth, biting down on one finger to not make a sound.  
“Push Rex, press into me, just like that, you are doing so good.” Codys voice was low and filled with affection, the hand formerly on his Captains stomach now out of view, hidden behind the bulk of Cody’s ow body. Wherever he was reaching now, whatever he was touching, it had his Captain try to arch off the desk, a wanting loud moan falling from his lips, followed right by the muttering of the Commanders name.  
He… He couldn’t stay! What was he doing watching his Brothers?!  
Hiding a whimper himself at another loud groan from his Captain, Fives turned on his heels as silently as he could, stealth-sprinting away, the Datapad clutched to his chest.  
He would not forget what he saw for a long time…   
And even when he dove into the cuddle pile, burying himself deep in the center despite his grumbling brothers, he could feel his ears burn.  
\---------------------------------------------------------

“I told you to stretch sooner, di’kut.”  
“Yes, I know.. But the work needed to be- oh gods..”  
“Yeah, leg cramps hurt like hell. Push, Rex, push against my hand, it will get better soon.”


	5. Hot Sauce Snippet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Padawan from chapter 1 is finally a Healer and has gathered two clones around himself.   
> So, as he walks over a marketplace with them and one of his Flocks stomachs growls, he decides to get them something to eat.
> 
> OC's galore.
> 
> Korbinian - Jedi Healer  
> Mesmer - Clone  
> Kin(tsugi) - Clone  
> Grandmother Bahra - old Lady manning a stall

"We shouldn't have said that. We really shouldn't have said that!" Mesmer murmured softly as his eyes tried to follow his hectic General all over the marketplace. It wasn't as easy as he hoped, because his General is smaller than the average human and so even smaller than the desert dwellers on this planet. Beside him his brother Kin was nodding. The only thing both of them could do even more. Their General had chucked his packs at them, told them to wait for him and then ran off to the first stall in his sight.  
And all of that only because Mesmer had praised the local spices in the food and how they pleasantly burned in his mouth, tingling on his tongue.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"And you really eat that? Isn't that too spicy?" The small General stood on his tiptoes and critically eyed the filled bread in Mesmers hands.  
The Clone nodded heavily, taking another bite from his food. The burning sensation spread through his mouth, tingling along his tongue and he moaned lowly at the taste.  
"It is tasty, more tasty than everything we get at the messhall! The food on the ships are just bland and don't taste like anything. This, this is good."

Beside Mesmer, Kin was nearly done with his own filled bread, drops of a reddish liquid dropping from his lips and back into the bread he had left. Both Clones had nearly pounced on the foodstall when the small group had wandered along the marketplace, stomachs rumbling loudly. And the Genreral was even nice enough to buy food for everyone. 

Now the General was still eyeing the dripping bread, his nose twitching as even the smell was piercing his sensible senses. 

"So, you like it?" Mesmer nodded.  
"And the food in the messhall is bland to you?" Kin nodded.  
"So more spices for personal use would be prefered?" Both clones nodded, Kin chewed his last piece of bread.  
"Mhmm...." The General stood back and ruffled his feathered hair, his eyes drifting over the stalls and goods.

"I know what to do. Here, Kin, take my bread. I am not hungry anymore." He shoved his own filled bread, without the red sauce, in the Clones empty hands.  
"Stay here. I will be back shortly." and with that last sentence the small Federling shoved into the throng of people mendering about, soon lost between bodies.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Here you go, Sweetling. An assortment of spices with little labels for you. I even packed you a few seeds for when you want to plant some of them yourself.” Grandmother Bahra, a dark skinned woman with more wrinkles in her face than stars visible in the nightsky, slowly pushed the bag over the counter.

“Thank you. This will help my Flockmates! You know, they love to eat spicy and the normally served food was to bland.” Korbinians fingers flicked over every purchase he made, counting them and organizing them at the same time.

“Ah! So you bought this for your brothers? This is awfully nice of you, Sweetling.” She smiled a nearly toothless smile at the Federling, her golden hued eyes gleaming warmth at him.

“I... I only want what is best for them.” Korbinian ducked his head, one hand ruffling his hair and feathers.

“... Wait one moment Sweetling, let old Bahra get you something else.” Against Korbinians protests the old woman bend over even more, her bones creaking loudly. Her wrinkled hands groped under her stall table and the Federling could hear some sort of crinkling noise over the old womans short breath.

“Ah! There it is. I knew my daughter had them somewhere around here. Take this, Sweetling. These are my recipes. I have them all in my head, so I think they will help you more now.” She held a bundle of weathered papyrus out to him, slightly teared apart or with smudges of dirt, but Korbinian took them like they were a most priced artifact of some kind.

His tangerine colored eyes twinkled at the old woman in front of him, grinning with her. Softly he packed the papers away and patted the bag of his purchases. He had nearly spent more than half the monthly allowance he had on only spices.

But he was sure his Flockmates would love it.

And maybe they would love it even more, when he would gift them with bottles of self made hot sauce or spices for them to take to their brothers.


	6. A gentle touch needed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you need an older Brother to make a nightmare go away.

There was precious small space in the sleeping pods the cadettes were provided with. Just barely big enough for one small boy to sleep on and maybe turn about in the throws of dreams.   
But it was more than enough to curl up in and press their backs to the wall, shivering under the blanket, that was barely thick enough to not be seen through.  
4161 was actually curled up right now, his sleeping pod halfway slid out of the wall to let in some seemingly fresher air for the boy. He was shaking wildly under his blanket but not a single sound was leaving his white lips, having lost color from being pressed so hard against each other.  
The Nightmares didn’t come often, but on some nights there are words whispering through his head, a sharp ache in his brain, a scratching on the inside of his skull like someone was drilling a tiny hole in his bone. And always just the one sentence, whispered over and over again, dancing through his mind seductively.  
This night had been worse than many others although his Trainers had worked them to the ground and back up, all the class of boys wanted after was to sleep. Normally after such a harsh training session no one would dream, but 4161 was an unlucky boy, shooting up awake after a few hours of sleep.  
And now he was alone, not daring to wake one of his batch mates to ask for company and reassurance. He was one of the misfits, he had some genetic defects and the Creators would love nothing more than to find out somehow and send him to be decommissioned.   
(You were better off not talking with Rumor about anything, this boy was better in sharing information than the Creators were at cloning. Rumor didn’t even mean to, but that one just couldn’t keep his mouth shut.)

A soft shuffling sound made 4161 freeze, red rimmed eyes barely peeking over the edge of his blanket. Footsteps, coming closer to his pod, small but strong hands grabbing onto the edge and then someone, a brother, taller than 4161 himself, was pulling himself up and on the half slid out pod.   
The smaller boys’ eyes stayed on the short blonde hair of the other, recognition burning fiercely through his being.  
He had seen this Brother a few times, glaring harshly at the Creators whenever they tried to make him break and bow down.  
He was different, just like 4161 himself.  
They did not talk, the other boy only hesitating shortly while staring into wrongly colored eyes before he robbed over, lanky arms wrapping around the smaller boy fiercely and tugging him against his warm body.  
A hand was stroking 4161’s back, another on his neck and guiding his head to gently press against the older boys’ own.   
4161 took a shuddering breath, shifting to cover the other with his blanket and to press closer to him.  
This was safe. This was warm.  
It was exactly what he needed right now.  
His tense muscles relaxed, a soft sob escaping from his lips.  
And all the while the other held him gently, foreheads touching gently and warmly.


	7. Small Shiny Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prayer i think a Shiny would recite in their head when the ramp lowers and their legion starts walking out.

Little Gods,  
bless the eyes walking in front of me to see the danger,  
don’t let them be taken by injury and curses,  
bless them to be the guard, the wall to hide behind, the shelter to protect me.  
Bless them for they are my brothers and dear to me.

Little Gods,  
bless the strong legs walking behind me to never let me be left behind,  
don’t let them falter or stray but stay strong and unbroken, to let me fall into arms that would never let me fall and would never forget me.  
Bless them for they are my brothers and dear to me.

Little Gods,  
bless me last, for I want to be all that for my brothers,  
let me be a shield, a guard, a fallback.  
Let me be strong and stubborn, to carry the burdens that I dont want others to carry.  
Bless me, for they are my brothers and dear to me.”


End file.
